


Biological Warfare

by SydAce



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Airplane, Gen, Germs, Revenge, Rude Passenger, Sick!Crowley, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 15:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20212210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydAce/pseuds/SydAce
Summary: Crowley is forced to take a plane whilst he's sick, for whatever damned reason.





	Biological Warfare

For some wretched reason, Crowley had caught a cold. He wasn’t sure if Hell was playing a cruel joke on him or what, but it should have been impossible for him to catch a cold. He also, for reasons unknown to him, had to take a plane. It was probably his fault for tempting that one human to make planes as cramped as possible, but he was livid. No, livid wasn’t even the right word! English had yet to come up with a word to describe how much of a bad mood he was in.

He sniffled angrily as he boarded to the plane. His nose was flaming red, so much so it almost matched his hair. If his sunglasses were off, a fellow passenger would be able to see just how bloodshot his eyes were. There was mucus moving around in his chest as he inhaled and exhaled the horribly dry and stale air of the plane. His throat was also inflamed horribly.

The demon scowled down at his ticket and then at the seat he had just come across. The passenger behind him had so politely decided to drape his jacket on Crowley’s seat. Crowley glared at the man, but alas his sunglasses blocked his vision. Not having the energy to talk, Crowley slammed himself in the chair. He tried to be as obnoxious as possible in letting the passenger know that he needed to get the damned jacket off of the chair.

Minutes went by, and the jacket was still there. Crowley kept on trying to lean back, only to have the jacket awkwardly jab him in the head. It was the last thing he needed whilst sick. Sick. One of Crowley’s eyebrows arched up as he got an idea. If the jacket was still there when the plane took off, he’d put that idea into play.

After all of the passengers sat down, the plane started to move on the tarmac. Pressure kept Crowley firmly against his seat as the plane soared upwards. His ears popped painfully and he grit his teeth. The jacket poking him only made that more uncomfortable. Though, it was a sign to the demon that he needed to put his idea into action.

Once the plane had settled into the sky, Crowley wiped his running nose with his hand. He made sure to get as much mucus as possible on it. Then, he coughed into the hand. It was truly disgusting. With a yawn, he stretched and rubbed his hand all over the jacket.

Biological warfare at its finest.

\--

When the plane eventually landed, Crowley leered over at the man behind him. The man grabbed the jacket, unknowingly touching all of the germs he had just come into contact with.

“Get sick,” Crowley hissed to himself and watched the man leave the plane.


End file.
